


july flame ( lusis )

by skeletonannie



Series: another apple into pieces [4]
Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Hollstein - Freeform, Monsters, also danny lawrence, also if you look closely we could count this as baby ot3, hollenstein, if yall want, ptsd carmilla means a lot to me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-03 21:36:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2888759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skeletonannie/pseuds/skeletonannie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>hollstein; how to love a monster/how to breathe through thunderstorms</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi friends. here is the link to the playlist laura made carmilla in "yellow birds"
> 
> http://8tracks.com/skeletonannie/escape-the-cupboard-vol-1
> 
> i dont know how to internet, therefore i dont know how to link, so copy& paste that bitch i guess?
> 
> cool. thanks friends!

There is a lot of blood.  There is a lot of blood, and you are alone, and no one is going to find you.  It is dark, it is cold, no one is looking for you; you don’t know about days anymore, you don’t know about summer or falling leaves, you don’t know about forgiveness or sliced apples or rose buds.  All you are is blood, all you are is alone, pulses thrumming in your ears and this is what love is.

            Hands are grabbing at your shoulders, your wrists, holding you down or pulling you up and they’re not bloodstained but you’re supposed to be alone down here and more pulses are hammering against your chest the hands press heavy against your cheeks you are supposed to be  _alone—_

            “Carmilla! Honey, please, it’s okay, you’re okay, you’re safe; I’m Laura, you are in room 307 at Silas University, it’s 2015. You’re safe, sweetie,” Laura is talking slowly and clearly but you hear the words rushing out of her mouth because they are covered in blood you are covered in blood this is what love brings this is what is harboured in your chest—

            “Carmilla.” Her hands are on your cheeks and it is much too small in here, you can feel the blood at your ankles, you can feel the splintering wood in your knuckles.  “Baby.  Look at me,” but you are  _alone_  so you shake her hands off and stand unnervingly fast, your fist going through the wall before Laura can even turn around.

            You hear a quiet, sharp gasp and then you feel your knees give, and you are on the ground, and you are very small. 

            Laura sings you soft songs until the sun rises, until the blood stops filling your dead lungs.

 

 

Laura is dragging you to some mixer for the Journalism and Humanities department.  It is spring; the flowers are bright and everything smells like new earth. Laura is talking very rapidly about a Ted Talk she watched on youtube the other night, and you are smiling because she is gesturing enthusiastically with her hands, seemingly unaware she’s still holding yours.  She is very young, and something in your stomach aches at the vibrancy of her smile.

            “Hey, Hollis; Dead Girl.”  The massive ginger comes around the fountain with a little wave.  Laura squeals and raises your clasped hands in a wave; you roll your eyes.

            “Hi, Danny!  Are you going to the mixer thing?  We are!” She’s practically vibrating.

            Xena gives you a look that could  _almost_ be described as shared fond exasperation for the buzzing human attached to your arm and you catch yourself rolling your eyes back at her. Her lips quirk, just slightly, before she responds to Laura, and then you’re all walking together, Laura still talking a mile a minute and Jolly Green occasionally glancing at you over Laura’s head with that same look.

            The mixer is on the fourth floor of the Kerville building. You head for the stairs, but Laura heads the opposite direction, toward the elevator.  You freeze, and Laura glances back at you, tugging your hand.

            “Carm? Come on, we’re going to be late,” she rubs your knuckles and lightly tugs again.  You swallow very hard.

            “How does one retain one’s air of mystery and intrigue if one is on time to school sanctioned events?”  You drawl, raising an eyebrow.  Laura doesn’t relent, and then you are in the elevator and the big metal doors are sliding shut and you hear blood rushing in your ears.  You stay very still and you don’t let go of Laura’s hand as the elevator starts rising with a mechanical creak.

            “Ow, Carm, you’re hurting me,” Laura says quietly, trying to pull her hand from yours, and you panic, because you cannot be  _alone_ covered in blood and trapped, so you hold on tighter, and then Laura is crying out, and the Amazon has your other wrist in her grip and she is twisting it behind your back.

            “Let go, Carmilla,” she mutters lowly in your ear.  You shake your head, try to hear over the blood, try to remember clouds and sunbeams and birds silhouetted against sunsets. “Let. Go.”

            And then your face is pressed against the cool metal and Laura is crying quietly and Danny is shoving her arm against the back of your neck and you can’t breathe without choking.  You feel your fangs piercing through your gums and you feel splinters in your knuckles and you feel the bones in your wrist clicking and there are so many ways to hurt a vampire—

            “Relax, Elvira.  You’re fine, okay? Laura, open the doors.” Danny hasn’t let go of you, but her grip is much softer, and you are eighteen and you have died so many times and she is guiding you out of the coffin and she is leading you up some stairs and she is pushing you out a door and then there it is, you remember wind and you remember mist and you remember spring.  You’re shaking.  There is blood on your lips.  Danny is still holding your wrist, but softly, gently.

            You take a very deep, very shaky breath.  The roof is gravelly and the rocks dig into your knees.  Danny sits down next to you, eyes you quietly, her hand still on your wrist.

            “I’m afraid of the dark,” she tells you quietly.  You nod and she keeps talking.  “Otters hold hands when they sleep so they don’t float away,” and, “the human body falls at an average speed of 56 metres per second,” and, “elephants return to the graveyards of their ancestors,” until you can breathe without choking. Laura sits down on your other side and presses her face into your shoulder.

            You take another unnecessary breath, and Danny moves her hand and stands slowly. “Come on, Morticia. We can make fun of the unending enthusiasm Journalism majors have while watching the party from a corner with cool indifference.”

            Laura huffs and you feel a shaky smile tug at your lips.  “You’re entirely incapable of anything less than ‘gung-ho,’ Jolly Green,” but you get up slowly anyway, wipe your hands on your leather pants, press your fists into your eyes.

            You turn to Laura slowly, hesitantly.  Meeting her eyes, you reach for her hand, and your stomach jumps when you see the mottled bruises already forming.  She smiles sadly at you, presses her fingers into your palm. “I’m sorry,” she whispers before you have the chance.  “I should’ve known, about the small space.  I’m sorry I didn’t recognize that.”

            You shake your head slowly, your brow extremely furrowed.  “No—what?  Cupcake, no, that’s not—it’s, that’s—you shouldn’t have to—I’m so fucking sorry.” You kiss her knuckles very gently and she smiles.  “I’m so sorry,” you whisper into her pulse point, thrumming heady against your lips.

            She pulls you into a clumsy hug, twisting her hands into the hair at your nape. “We’ll work on it,” she mumbles into your shoulder.  A bird calls from somewhere; the sun begins to set.

 

 

“This is unexpected, but I am definitely into it.”

            Laura laughs from between your legs, her teeth nipping at your inner thigh. “Stay quiet, Carmilla,” she reminds you, her hand pressing your hips down into the mattress.  “You know the rules.”

            And  _that_ makes you incredibly wet, so you bite your lip _—hard—_ and try to keep your hips still, your moans quiet.  You knew Laura wasn’t some naïve provincial girl, but you didn’t know she could be so…dominant?  And you are  _so_ glad you are finding this out. She presses her nails hard into your sides, scratches down your stomach, and you arch into her, a breathy whine leaving your mouth.           

            “Fuck,” you mutter, because you  _know_ she’s going to stop now. 

            She clicks her tongue and removes your hands from her hair, gathering your wrists in one hand and pressing them above your head.  A sharp swoop in your tummy, and your breath is stuttering hard in your chest.  You feel your hands shake and you try to think of dogs, or forests, or ducks, but your stomach is aching and your palms sting.  You try to buck Laura off of you, but she just gives you a stern look and scratches down your side, spreads your legs.  You whimper and clench your eyes shut, and Laura is letting go of your wrists and kissing your cheeks and whispering into your mouth.

            “Carm, baby, please, what’s wrong,” and she sounds so distraught, but you can’t stop shaking.  You try to mutter out an “I’m fine,” but instead you curl into her body and press your cheek to her chest, counting the beats of her heart.

            She holds you until you stop shaking, then she very gently has you write out a No list, and she makes you hot chocolate and watches Parks & Rec with you until you fall asleep.

            In the morning, you wake her with a kiss and she groans, scrunches her face, rolls into your chest.  You laugh and tickle her, and that earns you a grumpy morning glare.  Smiling, you kiss her again, and then you are whispering “I’m sorry” against her lips until she is wiping away your tears.

            “Carm,” she says, very softly, “please don’t ever think you can’t say no, okay? We established those safe words for a reason, and I want you to feel safe and comfortable, okay? I don’t care if I’m, like, three seconds away from coming; if you don’t feel comfortable, or safe, you say something, and I will stop, and then we will talk about it, alright?”  Her eyes are bright, and soft, and you can hear her heartbeat in your chest. 

            “Alright.” There is a patch of sun warming the middle of your dorm room.  There are falling leaves in your throat.

 

You are lying under a tree, and Laura has your head in her lap, and she is tapping out a beat on your forehead as she reads.  You can feel all of the blades of grass against your skin, and you can feel the soft haunt of the spring air, and you can smell the life that breathes from the earth.  Laura is humming that Gem Club song she won't stop listening to, and you are very still.  

            You roll over and press your head into her tummy, blowing a raspberry.  She squeals and swats at your head, but she is laughing and she is bright and she is young.  You smile into her t-shirt and push yourself up, kiss her jaw.  "I like your face, Hollis," and she laughs again and pushes your shoulder.

            "For a hot centuries-old vampire, you are quite unoriginal.  Plain, even," she tells you, still smiling.  You scoff and flick your bangs out of your eyes.

            "Brevity is the soul of wit, cupcake."  She rolls her eyes and kisses you, her teeth knocking yours.  You laugh into her mouth, trace her throat.  "For some unholy reason," you tell her quietly, "I have grown very fond of you."

            "It's a mixture of my devastating good looks and stupendous diet," she tells you.  

            "Hardly," you scoff.  "You taste like a pixie stick."  Laura swats you again, so you catch her hand and bite her finger.  " _Anyway_ ," you casually pull her arm over your shoulders, lean back against the tree.  "I ' _you know_  ' you, too, just so we're clear."

            Laura squeaks and you practically  _feel_ the look on her face.  "I--you--wait, I-- _ugh,"_ and then she's pulling your mouth to hers and she's laughing and she pulls away and she says, "You know, you are such a  _useless_ vampire."

            "Whatever, Buttercup," you smirk.  "I did it all for you, so."

            She blushes and twists your hair around her finger.  "Yeah, I'm starting to realize that."

             _"Finally,"_ and then you're tugging her up and pulling her toward the fountain.  "Danny's meeting us soon, come on."  

It's bright out, and you are eighteen, and you  _'you know'_ a beautiful girl and she  _'you know's'_ you back. There is still blood in your lungs, splinters in your fists, but you can close your eyes without explosions.  You can breathe around the thorns in your throat, and she is slowly helping you pull them out.  You can remember forgiveness, and sliced apples, and the feel of wine on your tongue.  You have harboured more than darkness in your chest.

           Danny ruffles your hair and picks Laura up, spins her around.  You don't snarl at her, or try to tear her spine out; you glare at her and then climb on her back, throwing your arms around her neck and growling low in your throat as she laughs and struggles to stay balanced with two tiny humans attached to her.

            

            


	2. black as the night and terrible as the pit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hollstein/lawstein/hollenstein (?):
> 
> pulling someone out of the literal mouth of hell has got to leave a mark.

So.

Like, okay, yeah, you just lived through an apocalypse featuring a really angry light and your girlfriend’s (?) sadistic mom—with the added bonus of a consuming sword—but that is not the weirdest thing to happen so far.  No, something much stranger is happening. 

Danny and Carmilla are getting along?  Sort of? Almost?  Probably.  Like, they keep sharing these looks over your head and—okay, you’re short, you’ve accepted that there is a whole _world_ above your head that you’ll never know, whatever.  But you feel like these looks are about _you,_ somehow, and this has led to, you don’t know, some weird form of camaraderie. It is _exhausting_ trying to keep up with those two.

And, yeah, Carmilla isn’t the most welcoming of people, whereas Danny is like a puppy, so this whole thing is like—what?  But you’re not complaining, not at all, you’re just—this is confusing.

It started after Danny brought Carm to your room, fresh from the actual pit of hell. She came by to check on you two after the rumbling got out of hand, and she looked kind of worried, because Carmilla was _definitely_ hurt, even though she refused to admit it, and when she asked Carmilla if she needed more blood, Carmilla gave her this soft kind of look.  It was—okay, it was pretty cute.  But like, no bloodshed, no shockingly offensive nicknames, just…civility.

And look. You know it’s not all for you, but—it’s really nice.  It’s also 100% giving you the wiggins.

Like, for example: you dragged Carm to a mixer for your department, and you ran into Danny on the way, and Carmilla _didn’t_ get all snarky and tense, and Danny _didn’t_ send glare after angry glare at her.  In fact, Danny kind of smiled.  At Carmilla. On purpose.

And the _elevator_.  Whoo-wee, that was a doozy.  You thought that Carmilla was definitely going to, like, break Danny’s arm or choke her out again or something.  But—Danny was so gentle, and Carmilla just kind of let herself be led around by the wrist, and then they were huddled together on the edge of the roof and you never thought you’d feel left out when it came to those two, but you kind of did.

AND NOW you’re being spun around by Danny while Carmilla climbs on her back and starts _growling_ and it’s not at all threatening like it was with Will. It’s like—playful? And it really reminds you of when she’s all panther-y and you scratch her neck.  So. 

Everything has taken a turn for the alternate universe, but you’re kinda digging it.

 

 

            It is a Wednesday.  This is pie day. This is Danny And Laura time, where you fight her for the last piece and she always lets you have it. But what are you actively _not_ doing on this Wednesday? Eating pie with Danny. There is no pie.

            No. Danny and _Carmilla_ are “going for a run,” whatever the heck that means, because—Carmilla does not _do_ exercise. She lazes around, makes fun of people, reads, and wears leather.  Exercise is noticeably _not_ one of those activities.

            So instead of making out with your girlfriend (?) or eating pie with Danny, you are rewatching Buffy and making brownies with Perry. Well, Perry’s making brownies. You’re eating the dough and getting angry at Angel.

            “Laura, sweetie, that might be enough sugar for a day—or three,” Perry trills from the kitchen.  You ignore her in favour for an aggressive spoon lick, and Perry flutters a bit before sighing and checking on the brownies.  “Alright, it’s your decision, but I really think that instead of eating all my dough, you should maybe talk about it?”

            “Talk about what, Perry?”

            She flutters some more, before sitting down beside you on the old couch. Her hands are restless against her legs. “I know that Danny and Carmilla have been acting…friendly, lately.”  You huff and lick the spoon with fervor.  “Does—are you bothered by that?”

            You scoff in outrage, dropping the spoon.  “Of course I’m not _bothered_ , I think it’s great!  They’ve been fighting for like, ever, and now finally they’re _not_ and it’s _great!_ ”

            Perry looks a little nervous, taking the bowl and spoon from you quietly. “Laura,” she starts, and she has a twitchy look in her eye because you’ve gotten some dough on your shirt. “Is it possible that you’re feeling a bit, oh, I don’t know, jealous?”

            “Jealous? _Jealous?_ I am not jealous, Perry. I am happy that my girlfriend-thing and my Lit TA-thing are getting along.  They are finally not trying to actively off one another.  We can hang out together.  We can watch movies and get dinner and _go for runs together_.  It’s great.”

            Perry looks at you carefully before handing back the bowl.  “Alright, sweetie.  Not jealous.  Just…excited about the new truce they’ve formed.  Got it,” and she gets up to check on the brownies, eyeing you the whole time.

            You’re not _jealous._

 

 

You’re walking to the library the next day (early afternoon, far from the witching hour) when you hear this strange growl-barking coming from the quad.  Of course, you forgo your scholarly pursuits and follow the sound, and—okay. Wow.  So _that’s_ where your girlfriend (?) has been all day.

            A _massive_ rust coloured wolf and a _gigantic_ freaking _jungle cat_ are wrestling in the grass. They’ve amassed some form of an audience, and someone is going through the crowd taking bets.  The wolf lunges at the cat’s neck and growls, and the cat—can panthers _smirk??_ Jeez Louise—leaps over the wolf gracefully, smacking it in the face with its tail on the way. The wolf lets out this—wow okay, terrifying howl and spins, biting the panther’s tail and giving it a hearty tug.  The cat—oh god, the cat _hisses_ and swipes a gargantuan paw across the wolf’s face and then they’re on the ground in this blur of rust and black and—that is _more_ than enough.

            “Are you freaking _serious,_ you guys?” You stomp over with your face all bunchy, stopping just shy of the cat’s twitching tail.  “First of all, it is a _school day_. I know for a _fact_ one of you has Advanced Russian Econ right now. Second, _really?_ Really.”

            The wolf has the decency to look a little chagrined, but the panther just rolls off the wolf and slinks over to you, rubbing its muddy body along your side, and—was that supposed to be _sexy?_ You roll your eyes and push it away. It huffs and flops onto its haunches, regarding you with grumpy yellow eyes. 

            “Both of you, go get changed and meet me at the fountain in _ten minutes_.  I mean it.”  With a final glare, you storm away.  You hear a _‘smack’_ and a high-pitched bark, and you look back in time to see the cat glowering at the wolf as the wolf rubs pitifully at its snout. You storm harder.

 

 

You haven’t stopped grumping since you got to the fountain.  It’s not like it’s unfounded: your _useless asshole vampire_ is skipping class to fight with a _wolf_ —side note: your Lit TA-thing is a friggin’ _wolf???_ —and Danny undoubtedly has papers— _your_ papers—to grade.  As if Silas wasn’t strange enough, now you’ve got gargantuan animal-monster fights to worry about.

            You see those two idiots rounding the corner by the coffee shop and you send them a mighty glare.  Danny offers a sheepish wave, but Carmilla—of _course_ —just smirks at you.

            “Hey, cutie,” she purrs—PURRS—before slipping her arms around your waist and trying to kiss you.  You turn your head and her lips hit your cheek.  You can feel her frown.

            “Not today, Carmilla.  Not. Today.”  She groans and buries her head in your neck, but you do not have time for this cute affection right now.  Squirming out of her hands, you level Danny with a glare. “Two things, Danielle Lawrence. One: so you’re a giant red wolf, huh?” She shrugs and gives you a small smile. “We’ll get back to that. Two: what the _heck_ were you two doing?  I leave you alone for like, one second and suddenly you are duking it out on the quad like some—some _Zetas_ ,” and Danny looks outrageously offended at that.

            “Alright, wow, rude, Hollis,” but you also do not have time for _that._

            “No. Shut up.  I expected you two to kind of be friends after the whole “hungry light sword stabby” fandango, but this is—wait, is _that_ what you two meant by _‘going for a run?’”_   You step back and stare at Carmilla, who is slouching against the fountain with a grumpy look on her face.  “You _guys_.”

            Danny steps forward and grabs your flailing hands in hers, ducking her head to meet your eyes.  “Laura, chill out, okay? So, yeah, okay, I probably should’ve told you I’m a…a werewolf, but like—how do I casually slip that into conversation? And also, Carmilla and I are adults—well, she’s like a thousand, but you know what I mean—and we know what we’re doing.  We weren’t in danger; we were just having fun, okay?”

            Carmilla pipes in, “And I was totally destroying this asshole, too, so you can also add _‘righteous badass warrior babe’_ to my list of positive attributes.”

            Danny rolls her eyes with a “whatever, Cullen” and is met with a slap to the back of her head.  She rubs it and glares at Carmilla with a bit of awe.  “How did you reach me?”

            “So I had to jump; whatever, pup.  Don’t call me Cullen.”

            “Don’t call me pup.”

            “Don’t be an insufferable asshat.”

            “Don’t make me kick your flabby ass again--”

            “Flabby? How dare you, I am etched from _diamond_ —”

            “Alright, shut up right now immediately.”  Both their jaws snap shut and they turn to you, looking a little frightened. “From now on, you two will not battle royale in the middle of the quad.  I don’t care what you do on your cute little runs that I was not invited to, but you will _not_ have a pissing contest on _the quad_.”

            Carmilla slinks over to you, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Cupcake,” she drawls, and you’re so _annoyed_ that it makes your heart skip.  “I’m very sorry that Jolly Green and I did not invite you to our weekly runs, but we figured it would be very tiring for someone with such tiny legs—”

            “Shut up, Carmilla.”

            She nods and kisses your lips before you can react, and then Danny is wrapping her arms around the both of you and squeezing you into some weird three person hug that has Carmilla’s chin jamming into your shoulder.

            “Sorry, Laura.  Won’t happen again.”

            You’re pretty sure you hear Carmilla mutter _“in the quad”_ under her breath, but you decide to let it go. Useless asshole vampire.

            “So anyway,” you puff Carmilla’s hair out of your mouth. “Danny,” and she hums in recognition, “can I pet you?”

            The hug is quickly replaced by a massive noogie attack.  You squeal and hide behind Carmilla, a low growl vibrating against your cheek from her chest.

            “Oh, you wanna go, scamp?”

            Carmilla whirls around, pushing you behind her and growling louder. “Anytime, Gingersnap.”

            Carmilla launches herself onto Danny, wrapping her legs around Danny’s torso and pulling her into a headlock.  Danny shouts and tries to shake her off, but Carmilla is aggressively wet willying her, so you sit down with a heavy sigh and pull out your Milton reading.

 

 

            Yeah, okay, your girlfriend (?) and your Lit TA thing are animal pals together. That’s cool, and it totally has some awesome perks.  Like, you were complaining casually about how you and Carmilla hardly see each other (this is a lie but you were feeling needy) and so she huffed and puffed and then dragged you to the Summer Society house, banging open the door and shouting for Danny. Danny jumped down the stairs with a wild look on her face, skidding to a halt when she saw you under Carmilla’s arm.  She had looked worried for a minute, before Carmilla sighed—very dramatically, might you add—and said, “Buttercup here is feeling left out.  Want to take her for a ride?” and you had opened your mouth in outrage, ready with a speech on how you’re _‘not an object and can’t be passed around at will,’_ but before you could Danny had smiled and nodded enthusiastically, and then you were outside by the forest and holy crap when did Carmilla transition and then Danny was lifting you up and wow hey this is a nice view and Carmilla is very soft and then Danny’s telling you to _‘hold on tight, Hollis’_ and then—

            Yeah. So it’s not so bad. And now, when you’re doing homework under the _‘you know’_ tree in February, you can use Danny and Carmilla for warmth. 

            So you may not ever understand what happened at the actual mouth of hell, and you’re not sure you want to.  Carmilla wakes up screaming a lot, and it hurts something in your chest, and she hates small spaces, and storms, and sometimes you have to do your homework by candlelight because bright lights make her nervous, but sometimes you see her and Danny animal-walking together, and Carmilla will bite Danny’s ear and Danny will growl at her and you realize—yeah.  This is good.  This is okay, and safe, and they’ll probably never tell you what happened down there, and you’re realizing that some things don’t have words, and some cupboards are locked, and some scars are bright and rocky. 

            Pulling someone out of hell is kinda something you can’t pass off. So for now, you’ll use wolf-Danny as a pillow, and you’ll throw sticks for her, and Carmilla will buy her chew toys and laugh at her wild offence, and you’ll hum songs to panther-Carmilla when the thunder is too loud, and you’ll let them heal in some instinctual way that looks a lot like friendship.

            They’re not allowed on your bed, though.  Those idiots shed like crazy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DONT KNOW i just rly like werewolf-danny and panther-carmilla being asshole idiots together and like yo if someone pulled me out of hell i'd be tighter than a chastity belt to that bitch like wow.
> 
> and laura is kind of precious so.
> 
> sue me.


End file.
